


Your Past is Burning Down

by Sinna



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Suicide Attempt, hurt/comfort friendship with a heavy emphasis on the hurt, in every sense of the phrase, needles mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22938457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinna/pseuds/Sinna
Summary: The energy around her changes – almost imperceptibly – and Nastya knows that Doctor Carmilla has entered the room.A glimpse of the early years.
Relationships: Nastya Rasputina & Ashes O'Reilly & Jonny D'Ville
Comments: 13
Kudos: 142





	Your Past is Burning Down

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Cyberian Demons, Nastya's (sadly unrecorded) origin song.
> 
> When my writing gets this level of dark I tend to go "okay clearly I just needed to get that out of my brain" and leave it on my computer, but the people I showed it to in the Mechs discord seemed to like it so ya know what here you go.

The energy around her changes – almost imperceptibly – and Nastya knows that Doctor Carmilla has entered the room. Jonny hasn’t noticed, and is still loudly bragging about the ship he won in a game of roulette. But Ashes, who is facing the door, has gone still. The even rhythm of their breathing stutters for a moment before the mechanical lungs overpower the reaction of the flesh. But it’s enough, and Nastya steels herself for what might be to come.

Not all of the Doctor’s visits are bad, but Nastya is less of an optimist than she used to be. She taps Jonny’s wrist, as subtly as she can, and one look at her kills the words on his lips. The manic energy drains from his face, coalescing inside him somewhere before it returns in full force with what only Nastya – and perhaps Ashes – recognizes as a shade of panic.

He turns, grinning, to face Doctor Carmilla. Striding up to her as if he hasn’t a care in the world, and stopping her from encroaching any further into their space.

“What’s up, Doc?”

He laughs at his own joke, one Nastya has never understood.

At last, she herself turns to face their creator – or re-creator, she supposes. Carmilla lurks in the doorway in a faded silk kimono, a glass of probably-not-wine in her hand. She takes a sip and smiles that horrible pointed smile that Nastya has come to hate.

(She didn’t always. Once, Carmilla had appeared to her like an angel.)

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks.

“Nothing in particular,” Ashes says, with the air of someone who’s told more lies than truth.

And it’s not like Nastya or Ashes were really listening to Jonny’s boastful tale, but Doctor Carmilla is an interruption, nonetheless. An intruder in a space where, for a moment, the three of them had felt something like safe.

Not that she ever really leaves them. Even in their calmest hours, the shadow of the Doctor still looms over each of their shoulders. But a shadow is nothing compared to the real thing, and all of them have lived with shadows before.

Carmilla takes the few steps towards Jonny and rests a hand on his shoulder. Her nails delicately scrape against the deceptively unblemished skin of his throat.

Nastya looks away, but only for a moment.

The Doctor steps around Jonny, who Nastya notes distractedly is shaking like a leaf. She reaches into Ashes’ pocket and pulls out a cigarette, though she doesn’t bother to light it. Nastya doesn’t think she actually smokes.

And then her full attention is on Nastya. She strokes a hand through Nastya’s hair and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. Nastya feels like she’s being burned. No, not burned.

(Ashes lit her hand on fire once, when she got so stuck in her own head that she couldn’t distinguish the past from the present. The fire had hurt, sure, but it had been warm. It had been honest. That night, Nastya had almost understood why Ashes liked the flames so much.) 

No, Carmilla’s kiss on her forehead feels like a thousand icy needles plunging into her skin all at once.

As abruptly as she appeared, Doctor Carmilla turns on a heel and disappears back down the hallway.

Nastya’s legs give out under her.

Ashes lights up their one remaining cigarette with shaky fingers.

Jonny goes for his gun.

Neither of the other two flinch as he buries five rounds in the wall at the opposite end of the room.

And then his eyes go a little bit manic. Well, more manic than usual.

Nastya pulls herself to her feet. She has to lean against the table to do so, but she stands. She waits for that final shot to ring out.

It doesn’t.

Jonny’s looking at her in a way she doesn’t understand. He crosses the room to stand beside her and presses the gun into her hand. Nastya holds it weakly. She’s never seen Jonny let anyone else so much as touch his gun.

Well, except the Doc.

He reaches over and helps her lift her arm into a firing position. After Carmilla, his touch feels like a relief, even if she can’t understand what he’s doing.

And then he stands there. Expectant. With the gun pressed against his chest.

“Pull the trigger, Nastya,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps back.

It’s an automatic reaction to the commanding tone in his voice, but she can’t say she regrets it. She lets the gun fall from her hand in disgust.

Ashes picks it up. They meet Jonny’s eyes, and something passes between the two of them. Jonny smiles. Not his usual grin, but a genuine smile. Ashes lines up the shot, and fires.

Blood spatters all three of them.

Jonny falls.

Ashes wipes the blood off their hands, but doesn’t bother with the rest of it. Neither of them can shake the practiced need to count the seconds, even though this isn’t another test, so they whisper the numbers – Nastya in Cyberian – under their breaths.

There’s a shuddering rhythm as a mechanical heart resumes its beating.

“Stop fucking counting,” Jonny snaps from the floor.

“Are you done?” Ashes asks, taking another drag of their cigarette.

He struggles to his feet.

“With that particular plan? Yes.”

“What’s the next one?” Nastya asks.

“I am going to drink an entire bottle of whiskey and then go out there and kill the first person I see,” he says, with a fire in his eyes.

Ashes nods approvingly, and they both head for the door. Nastya briefly remembers the time when she would have flinched at such a thought. Now, she simply follows, clutching a handmade grenade in her coat pocket.

\--

Hours later, the three of them sit in the burnt-out ruins of what used to be the nearest bar. Ashes is admiring the still smoldering walls. Jonny is wiping gore out of his eyes with a rag that’s barely less bloody than he is.

And Nastya? She is covered in smoke and blood, and she is smiling.

And for a while, the shadow looming over them retreats.


End file.
